


The Art of Subtlety | Dean Winchester/Reader

by shyangel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 02:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyangel/pseuds/shyangel
Summary: When you and Dean pursued a relationship, you had no idea how hard it would be to keep it a secret...





	The Art of Subtlety | Dean Winchester/Reader

Things were not looking good.

The witch was more powerful than you had anticipated, and to make matters worse, you and Dean were facing her alone. Sam had already been knocked out, and was laying in the corner with a bleeding temple.

Your heart was pounding and your head spinning as you called out to get the witch’s attention. She turned towards you, and her split second of weakness offered Dean only a small window of opportunity, yet it was large enough for him to lodge a bullet in her skull. As she collapsed in an ever-growing puddle of blood, you felt an overwhelming wave of relief crash over you, battling with the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Your hands were shaking as Dean glanced over at you, concern mellowing his otherwise hardened stare.

“Are you okay?” he demanded, rushing over to you and seizing your shoulders, eyes scanning you for injuries. He smelt of metal and sweat, and his hands left bloody streaks on your shirt as his green eyes searched yours insistently. He had a graze on his jaw, and a bruise beginning to form along his cheekbone.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, resting a hand on his shoulder in a light touch of reassurance. You could feel the heat of his skin through his plaid, and though the anxiety in his stance died, he stayed close to you. Dean stared at you in half-awe for a moment, breathing heavily, before his grip on your shoulders tightened.

“You’re okay,” he breathed, more to himself than anything else. “You’re okay.”

You nodded absently, lost in the depths of his eyes as he drank in the sight of you as a parched man drank water. He caught you entirely by surprise as he tugged you closer to him, slamming his lips against yours and kissing you with a fiery intensity that burned through your veins and sent your heart spiraling into a flurry of frantic beating. You were stiff for a moment, but quickly found your arms looping around his neck as his fingers knotted in your hair. His lips were chapped and he tasted of copper as his tongue teased yours, one hand moving to grip your hip as he pulled you flush to his chest. You could feel his heart hammering through his shirt, it’s frenzied rhythm mirroring your own.

The air was pierced with Sam’s cough as he slowly came to, and the two of you were quick to withdraw from your act of passion. You felt your cheeks flush as Dean cleared his throat, eyes flitting to yours one last time before you both moved to tend to Sam.

—

That night, the motel room was silent but for the whirring hum of the air conditioner and the occasional purring of a car cruising past the vicinity. You’d long since scrubbed the blood from under your fingernails and washed the sweat from your hair, and were ready to fall into a well-deserved slumber. Before you could surrender to sleep’s grasp, however, you noticed Dean sitting on the small couch, a beer on the table as he looked blankly at the tv in front of him, lost in his own thoughts.

“Hey,” you said softly, taking a seat next to him, and the eldest Winchester jumped at your sudden appearance. He immediately forced his lips into a small smile.

“Hey,” he said, and his voice was gruff.

“You okay?” you asked. Dean nodded casually, and though you didn’t quite believe him, you let it slide. You all had your demons in this lifestyle, both literally and metaphorically, and Dean had gone through far more than even you could comprehend. It wasn’t up to you to force him to voice his feelings - you could only be there for him in his silence.

“Are you?” he deflected. You nodded, and heard Sam stir in his sleep behind you.

“Wanna go for a walk?” you suggested, and Dean appraised you questioningly for a moment before nodding. The two of you left the motel room, wandering down the barely sheltered corridors that led out to the parking lot.

“So, uh… are we gonna talk about what happened?” you asked eventually, and Dean was so quiet that at first, you feared he hadn’t heard you. As you looked at him searchingly, his adamant avoidance of your gaze insinuated otherwise.

“I could lie and say it was just the… the adrenaline, or the thrill of the hunt, but… dammit, Y/N, I like you. I like you a hell of a lot. And you don’t have to say anything, but-”

You cut him off by gripping his shoulder as you drew to a halt. He looked at you inquiringly, about to speak again, only to be silenced as you stepped forward and kissed him. Though incredulous, he immediately melted into you, his mouth moving with yours sweetly and tenderly, so different to the urgency of your last kiss, yet equally as meaningful.

Both of you were quick to resolve that this should remain only between the two of you - you wanted to preserve this intimacy, to allow this newfound relationship to blossom before it could be tainted with the prying questions of others.

You sealed the vow with a kiss, your whispered promises held secret by the crickets and your whispers bleeding into the night air as, bathed in the moonlight, the two of you found yourselves in each other.

—

_Two months later_

For the first time in what felt like years, you were wearing a dress (or a classier pant-based outfit if that’s more your style). You felt strangely sophisticated as you left the motel, meeting Sam and Dean where they waited for you at the Impala. Your boyfriend raised an appreciative eyebrow at your attire as he caught sight of you, and you bit back a smile as he winked flirtatiously.

“Look at you,” he said, shaking his head gently. “You look gorgeous, baby.”

You shot him a pointed glare at his careless term of endearment, and his eyes widened in panic as he recalled Sam’s presence. When you glanced at him, however, he seemed nonplussed as he slipped into the Impala.

“You know, Dean, it really is kind of weird for you to call the car ‘baby’,” he remarked, and Dean looked affronted despite the relief clouding his features.

“Hey, watch your mouth! She’ll hear you!” he defended, and you stifled a giggle as the two of you got into the Impala before setting off towards the town’s nearest diner, in need of a celebration following another successful hunt - a run-of-the-mill salt and burn.

Once the three of you had sat and ordered, Sam excused himself to the bathroom, leaving you and Dean alone at the table. Dean immediately seemed to relax.

“Have I mentioned how stupidly good you look in that dress yet?” he asked with a coy grin, and you felt your cheeks flush.

“Uh, yeah, you almost blew our cover!” you hissed playfully, and he smirked.

“Doesn’t have to be the only thing getting blown tonight,” he taunted, and you kicked him beneath the table.

“You wish, Winchester,” you shot back. Dean cockily grinned, about to say something but abruptly shutting his mouth as Sam approached the table. He looked between the two of you with a quizzical furrow of his brow.

“Everything okay?” he asked. You and Dean glanced at each other before nodding quickly, both uttering words of assurance that combined into a cacophony of unintelligible declarations.

“…right,” Sam said slowly, before taking his seat. The night flew by quickly, filled with conversation, food, and laughter, supplemented by the teasing game of footsie you and Dean played under the table and the subtle grins and silent laughter the two of you shared whenever Sam’s attention was diverted elsewhere.

Before long, the three of you were headed back to the Impala, ready to begin the long drive home to the bunker. You settled into the back seat, listening to the brothers’ casual conversations in the front half of the car. Discussions of podcasts, books, whose music taste was better… simple bickering that left you with an amused smile as you occasionally weighed in on their trivial disagreements. Every now and then Dean would glance at you in the rearview mirror, eyes bright as he took in the slope of your smile and enjoyed the melody of your laughter. Your eyes met his in the reflective surface, and the two of you exchanged exhilarated smiles, subtle displays of the mutual secret held between you, a secret that was blooming into the happiness you both had been seeking for what seemed like your entire lives.

Sam set off to bed almost the moment the three of you arrived back at the bunker, leaving you free to join Dean in his room without the need for stealth. The two of you curled up in bed, and Dean hugged you close to his chest, his lips resting in your hair as you slung an arm across his torso.

“Tonight was fun,” you murmured sleepily. “Especially the bit where I _owned_ you at footsie.”

“ _You_ owned _me_? I think we both know _I’m_ the footsie champion here,” Dean protested, and you grinned, placing a soft kiss to his jaw.

“Whatever you say, babe. Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you teased, and he smirked, running his thumb along your cheekbone before tilting your head up so as to capture your mouth with his in a slow, deep kiss. You exchanged a soft smile as you drew apart, and you nestled in closer to him. His grip on you was a little too tight, as though he were scared that someone would snatch you away if he wasn’t too careful. You didn’t mind - you felt safer in his arms than you had ever felt elsewhere.

“You know… we should probably tell Sam about us,” you eventually sighed, and Dean exhaled, nodding slowly.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “But just Sam to start with, yeah? I don’t want just anyone to catch wind, or else-”

“Yeah, yeah, love is weakness, demons would love to use me as bait, blah blah blah. I can take care of myself, you know.”

Dean chuckled. “Oh, I know,” he assured you. “But I’d prefer if you didn’t have to.”

You gave him a small smile, your hand finding his and locking your fingers together.

“So it’s agreed? We’ll tell Sam in the morning?”

“Yeah, agreed.”

—

The next morning, you and Dean were surprised to see that Cas had joined the three of you in the bunker in a rare occurrence that stemmed from a desire to catch up as opposed to an apocalyptic emergency.

“Cas,” Dean remarked in surprise, glancing to you to gauge your reaction. Your eyes met his, and you half shrugged - may as well tell him, too. No harm in that, right?

“Hey, Cas,” you greeted with a warm smile, which Cas returned with equal kindness.

“Good morning, Y/N. And Dean,” he added with a small inclination of his head. Sam was seated with a cup of coffee, scrolling through a news website on his laptop. He nodded at the two of you quickly.

“Hey, guys,” he acknowledged. “There’s extra toast in the toaster if you’re hungry.”

Dean’s eyes lit up, and he was about to head towards the kitchen before you grabbed his wrist, holding him back.

“Actually, there was something we wanted to speak to you about. Both of you,” you said firmly, and Dean traded a reassuring glance with you. Sam and Cas turned their attention towards the two of you encouragingly.

You swallowed thickly. “Uh, Dean and I are… well… we’re together. We have been for a while, actually,” you announced nervously. Sam and Cas glanced at each other.

“This is… very unexpected,” Cas said suddenly. “I am… very surprised, Sam and I had absolutely no idea,” he said resolutely, and a tad overenthusiastically. He turned to Sam. “Was that convincing?” he asked in a hush, and Sam groaned, though couldn’t restrain his laughter at the confusion etched onto yours and Dean’s faces.

“We know,” Sam said eventually, and Dean’s mouth was agape.

“You-what- _how?_ ” he stuttered in surprise. Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Really? You guys aren’t exactly subtle,” he laughed, and you and Dean shared sheepish expressions.

You allowed a small smile. “Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your hand clasping Dean’s. He stroked his thumb absentmindedly over your knuckles.

“I figured you’d tell us when you’re ready,” Sam said with a shrug. “Took you long enough. How much do I owe you, Cas?”

“You placed _bets_ on this?” you asked, aghast, and Sam shrugged again somewhat guiltily. You allowed a huff of irritation, but felt your heart glow as Dean pressed a kiss to your temple and smiled into your hair, indifferent to the presence of his brother and the angel. No more secrets.

You could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave a kudos if you enjoyed! :)  
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